Meaning
by QueenAnne
Summary: "You're such a good friend, Rory, you're amazing, and I love you. I'm a bastard. I don't deserve your love." A Trory piece
1. The Porch

Author's Note: Hi you guys, this is just a seriously short piece, a Trory. And I've been on here, the ever lovely Gilmore Girls section (how awesome are we?!) long enough to not be offended by any bad reviews because thanks to a lot of you, who are so fabulous, I've gotten great reviews in the past. Anyway, I DO hope you enjoy it, even though it really is VERY VERY VERY short. Read on!--Annest  
______________________________  
The city was cold, and Rory smiled. She pulled the lambskin jacket closer, tighter around her arms and her waist and her shoulders and her heart, warming her all over on the outside, already warm on the inside.   
  
She laughed, giddy at the thought of seeing Tristan, not willing for him to know, not wanting him to know. It was winter, January, and Hartford was freezing. More laughing, smiling, something she couldn't stop.  
  
"I thought I told you to meet me here fifteen minutes ago, shorty," a sarcastic voice came from a few feet away. She looked up to see Tristan, still surprised at how much he had grown at military school the year before, his blue eyes shining. Rory knew he was kidding, hiding a smile underneath the facade she had come to know so well.  
  
"Okay, look," Rory shot back, already on the defensive. "I had to drop some mail off for Grandma, and then I had to get gas. I didn't want the car to stop in the middle of the street!"  
  
"You could have called," Tristan told her, just a little angrily, and she knew he had been worried, so walking towards the cafe door once she caught up to him. She rolled her eyes, didn't look at him, what was the point? Rory was pretty sure she knew exactly what his face was saying.  
  
"Well, I didn't. My phone's broken. I haven't paid the bill yet."  
  
"YOU pay the bill?" Tristan asked incredulously, sarcasm dripping.  
  
"I take the bill to GET paid, how about that?" she offered on their way to the table. Pizza was all around, coming through the air gently, wafting smells of garlic and cheese up to their noses. When Rory and Tristan got to the table Rory saw everyone else, and that made her happy. Happy because life with some of the Chilton people wasn't just life anymore, it was fun. And they were friends, something had happened between junior and senior year, something that made them come back older, wiser, and even more in shape, in the case of a certain blonde military boy. They had broken from the mold, and proved it, too. Madeline was there with her boyfriend, Chase, a tall senior on the debate squad who showered her with affection, something Rory was glad about. Louise wasn't there, but a few other friends, Natalie, Sam, Tristan's best friend Tim were. Tim had just broken up with Louise, and no one was entirely happy with him. He had someone else, a sophomore who Rory recognized to be named Amy. Poor thing had probably gotten more dirty looks than she deserved tonight, honestly. And of course, there were Paris and Jess. No story needed there.   
  
"Life happens," Jess had told Rory.   
  
"He's repulsive," Paris had told Rory. So, obviously, Jess and Paris had been dating a little less than six months now.  
  
Rory sat down in the extra large booth, across from Tristan, as the group fell back into animated conversation.  
  
"Please, please, please don't kick me," Tristan begged her a while later. He was already nursing two or three bruises on each shin, Tristan was almost certain, and didn't feel like adding more. Rory laughed.   
  
"It's your fault. You shouldn't have spilled the ice water everywhere, and there wouldn't be a mess."  
  
"Yeah, stop your bitching," Tristan told her. The new girl's eyes opened wide and Chase and Madeline laughed.  
  
"I only bitch to hide my true feelings. I'm in love with you. What else am I supposed to do with sexual frustration?" Rory laughed.   
  
"I can think of a number of things, if you really want to know," he said with a smirk. The group started to migrate from the table, gathering at the door to leave. No one wanted to go out in the cold, but one by one--or, mostly, two by two--they all went out to their cars. Tristan and Rory were left walking together to the parking lot, wishing it weren't so cold.  
  
"So, I'm coming over? Yeah?" he led on as if to say "obviously. Why haven't you asked yet?" Rory heaved a huge dramatic sigh and conceded.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose so," she told him grudgingly. Tristan laughed, grabbing his keys.  
  
"You suppose so? Are you still staying with your grandparents tonight?" he asked. Rory nodded; she had been for the last week while her mom and Sookie were in New York. "I'll follow you home," Tristan announced as they got into their respective cars.  
  
"You're a terrible driver," she shot through the window as he cranked his stereo up and rolled the windows down despite the awful cold outside.  
  
Moments later he passed her on the road out to the Hartford suburbs, zooming around her, falling back, playing his typical road games around Rory's much-simpler driving, making her laugh, laughing until they both pulled into her grandparents' driveway.  
  
"So, out on the porch?" he asked. Tristan was like that, always leading her on to a question with his answers, only asking what he wanted to hear. It made Rory grin, on the inside, smile sometimes even when he wasn't around.  
  
"Do you know how cold it is out there?" she asked, frowning at him, rolling her eyes in the game the played so well.  
  
"We could stay in here and have your grandmother listen at the door," Tristan told her sarcastically. Rory walked, glaring, out onto back porch.  
  
2 hours. That was how long he had stayed last time, about a week ago. She looked at him in his chair, a few feet away from hers.  
  
"Do you want me to rub your back?" he asked. Rory was shocked, a little. She never knew what to expect, was he joking, was he being annoying, was he serious?   
  
"Yeah," Rory told Tristan, moving down to sit cross legged in between his bent legs, smiling. Tristan started to knead the muscles in her neck, in her back. Rory grimaced.  
  
"Be more gentle," she asked. Tristan scoffed behind her, but she couldn't turn enough to see him.  
  
"You're so weak. There are knots here," he prodded near her shoulder bones with his fingers, "but you won't let me get them."  
  
"Fine. Just don't do it too hard, okay? I'm ticklish, too." Tristan laughed and attacked her for a minute, until Rory was cracking up, had moved away, and he pulled her back, setting his strong hands on her shoulders, pulling Rory back to him. They sat like that, for hours it seemed, Rory's heart beating quickly at his nearness, as his hands gently worked those knots out. Forever, it seemed, thirty, forty minutes, and they talked the whole time. About a girl he had been seeing recently, about Lane, about her mom, about his family, about Chilton, about their usual conversations, then there was a break. Rory was used to this, the comfortable silence that she and Tristan would fall into, and she loved it, knew it, enjoyed it. Enjoyed him. Then he spoke.  
  
"Rory, I'm done," he told her. He had never said he was done, she just always moved after a while, but Rory did, moving oddly to the chair she had started in. Tristan was silent again.  
  
"You know, Tristan," she started out, rubbing her own shoulders with her hands with a grin, "I'd think that, as my best friend, you wouldn't exactly want to kill me," Rory told him. He laughed a little, a Tristan laugh, and Rory was comfortable again for a moment.  
  
They were talking about Chilton, about classes, about Monday's homework.  
  
"I'm so tired of math. I hate math, I'm really not good at it. I wish we were done with school."  
  
"Rory, I'm going to kiss you. And I want it to mean nothing."  
  
Oh my.   
  
Suddenly, Rory was so very NOT comfortable. She wanted it to mean something, wanted Tristan to think SHE meant something. Next thing she knew he was pulling her chair to his, placing his hand on her shoulder, the other on the chair near her waist, and Rory wasn't sure what to do. Then his lips, the lips she had secretly dreamt of kissing since he had returned from military school, the lips that had kissed her in dreams almost every night, the lips of her now best friend, were on hers, coaxing, encouraging, moving on hers, and Rory went under. Feelings assaulted her, his tongue slipping into her mouth, widening a little with a gasp, and she sighed into his lips as his other hand slipped to her waist. For a minute, two minutes, three minutes, their mouths melded, moving, and Rory wanted more, a little more, as they leaned into each other, before they broke away finally.  
  
"Well," she said, scooting back. She saw the look Tristan gave her. "No offense Tristan. I just instinctively moved back." She laughed a little. "So."  
  
"I don't think us in a relationship would work."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Tris," Rory said, her heart still racing.  
  
"I'm serious, Ror. Let's...and don't think I'm being a jackass here, but people talk about us enough already, and this thing with Michelle isn't resolved yet either. So let's keep this to ourselves, just for a while, not even your mom, I won't tell Tim...can we wait until we both figure out what's going to happen?" he asked earnestly, honestly, and Rory knew that he WASN'T being a jerk, he really was serious, and he had a point. She nodded mutely, opened her mouth to speak, shut it when she heard the door open.  
  
"Rory, Tristan's parents just called. They needed him home fifteen minutes ago--do you two realize what time it is?" Rory glanced at her watch. 12:45. Oh. She gave Tristan a look, as her grandmother ducked back inside.  
  
"I'll walk you out to your car," she told him, heading for her shoes. "Naw, that's okay, I don't really need them." There was a pause, once he got to the car, and Tristan turned to her instead of opening the door.   
  
"So,...am I...am I supposed to hug you, or kiss, or what? I still feel like this is a business deal," she laughed hesitantly. Tristan looked at her, leaned back against her car a little, for a minute, then came closer, and Rory thought he put a hand on her shoulder, or on her waist, or something, but she couldn't quite remember, didn't really care.   
  
"I think we kiss," he said, right before he leaned in, and Rory felt him come closer, pulled him closer, and he drew her to him. It felt so right. Too fast, almost, his lips were on hers, and it began much faster than the first, and in a few seconds he drew back, they both did, pulling away and together at the same time, until the were far enough apart to look each other in the eyes, the eyes they both wanted so much, until the last parts of their bodies that were touching was his hand as it laid on the small of her back, dropping a bit, then back down to his side. Tristan ran his hand through his blonde hair, the movement that was so him, and Rory looked at the car, looked back at him, took a step closer as he took a half one toward his BMW.   
  
"Rory," Tristan started off again. "I was serious, what I said earlier. I don't think us in a relationship would work right now, even though I..."  
  
"I understand, Tristan, I do. Now go," Rory told him honestly. The look he gave her saw inside, right through.  
  
"I was. But Rory," again, a pause. A wistful look, stopping to glance at her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, and a little pain. "I know we've got to do something. Because I don't think I'll be able to not kiss you again."  
  
"Good night, Tristan," she said, nodding. He got into the car and drove down the long driveway as she walked back inside. And as she slept, she heard him over and over again.  
  
"I don't think I'll be able to not kiss you again." And she smiled.  
___________________________  
  
The end...so, what did you think? I really hope you liked it = )  
  
OOH! And if anyone knows what Rory should do, do tell me!!! --Annest 


	2. The Bedroom

Author's Note: Well, I'm back. As are Tristan and Rory. I hope you guys are still willing to read this. *Laughs* It began somewhat alternate universe-ish anyway, and it's continuing just like that. As much as I love Jess (and ooooh, I do love Jess...) Tristan will always be the best. Call me crazy.  
  
_________________________________________________  
  
May in Connecticut was chilly, chillier than it should have been, chillier than it would have been. But maybe it was all for good; she had heard that those long black robes could get stuffy.   
  
The CD player in the his BMW was smooth, wafting through the speakers as she closed her eyes, shoulders finally dropping as her whole body seemed to relax. His was a long line in the driver's seat, leanly at ease as he shifted and cornered toward the school. The front of the parking lot was filled up already, the expensive cars of their peers glistening softly in the late May light. Shafts of sun dropped onto the smooth metal as he pulled easily into a spot.   
  
He didn't say "we're here", he didn't say "wake up", he just unbuckled and stepped out of the car.   
  
She didn't want to wake up.  
  
"Get up," he told her harshly. Rory didn't react. He was baiting her.  
  
"Noooooo." The long moan was quiet.  
  
His reaction was much different than hers. It was a good thing her eyes were closed, he thought carefully.  
  
"Rory! Get out of the car!" he told her, poking her in the side. Rory jumped, her eyes flying open.  
  
"Stop it, you jerk," she said with a laugh. "I'm getting out, I'm getting out."  
  
The walk into school was almost deserted. As usual, most everyone else had arrived, safe and sound, having not been subjected to Tristan's driving as Rory was. Tristan had the habit of arriving late. And Rory had the habit of taking forever to get ready. And the both had the habit of fighting about that in the car everytime. So life went on, eh?  
  
The groups of students were milling around in the Chilton Great Room, moving in circles, in the intricate dance of meeting people, seeing faces, shaking hands, whispered words that was so familiar. And Tristan was dragged into that, flowing along with the current of gestures, phrases, a touch here, a laugh there, and the manly bravado that floated through the flirtatious swirls of the dance.  
  
She stood off, with Paris, and watched.   
  
Waited.  
  
Through the reception and the practice, he filled her mind. She laughed at him, she sighed over him, she stared at him even when he looked back.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Paris quiered. On the inside, Rory gazed at him and died.  
  
"I don't know. Lord...I...I don't know." Her voice almost broke. There was something in her chest, something weighing her down, making it hard to breath, hard to see. Her head hurt. She wanted to cry.  
  
"I want something more. I want insurance..." Paris trailed off softly.  
  
"To know that this isn't the end?" She lost him in her trail of vision. Gave up looking for him, for a moment. "To know that we'll...be together...sometime?"  
  
"God, why does this stupid thing make everyone sentimental?!" Paris ground out roughly. Both quietly brushed at their eyes, turning into themselves, trying to hide it.  
  
An hour later, they were finished. She had long since sat down, it was too painful to stand on the shoes that had been surreptitiously stolen from Lorelei's closet. Rory uttered a quiet laugh. It almost sounded derisive, but the laugh was soft, bubbling up from her, but tamped down.   
  
She was happy; that thing inside her weighed down even as this elusive elation seemed to flit around her.   
  
It was getting darker outside, now, the twilight approaching. Tristan was holding court with four girls, surrounded by batting eyelashes, gentle giggles, provacative sighs and pouted lips. Guys looked on in awe sometimes, talking under their breaths about him as the girls pressed on. Each came closer to Tristan; it was as a magnetic field drew every girl in the room. Some came and stayed, some passed by to flirt, some promised him later, some reminded him of before. Rory just sighed. She was ready to go.   
  
He edged out of the group when he caught her eye, and inside that elated bubble seemed to flow faster for a second.   
  
"You ready?" Tristan asked brusquely, rolling his eyes. Baiting her again. She played back, into his hands.   
  
"I've been ready for half an hour, Tris," she glared back. "Coming?"  
  
His leer was what she was waiting for. "Not til after you do," he suggested.  
  
"'Cause you're a gentleman like that," Rory tossed out.  
  
"I'll be anything you want me to be," he answered. Their gazes were more tense with the second, and he followed quickly with a sharp turn. "Name that movie."  
  
"Pretty Woman." His challenge lit her face in a smile. The air outside was colder still. His arm wasn't around her, because they weren't like that.   
  
They couldn't touch, because the electricity was still there. His arm would have easily gone around another girl, another friend, even Paris. His sexual innuendos were rare now, to her, because people had talked. Even while she didn't, and he didn't, people knew what had happened, and worse, people knew what wasn't happening. So she was cold, and he didn't warm her up. Rather,  
  
"I'll turn on the heat for a second when we're in the car."  
  
That was enough, that he noticed, sometimes. She sighed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's sad."  
  
"Don't tell me you're getting sentimental now," he unknowingly echoed Paris.   
  
"Look!" Rory started, getting worked up quickly. He growled a harsher sigh.   
  
"No, Tristan, look. We're going to be...done. You'll be gone. I'll be gone. Our lives are spread out before us and I'm scared to death because you're not sitting in front of me like you have been! You're not there! I'm seeing the whole picture, cloudy as it may be, and you're not even near it! You've...you've, like, disappeared. And you know what? I don't care what you think. I'm upset. I'm depressed. I'm losing one of my best friends in the world, because you'll go on and be incredible and I'll lose you completely. I never knew what I had until I met you, and you make me feel amazing and awful in one sentence. You...drive me crazy. You're like my brother. And we're going to be gone. On Friday we will walk that line and be finished. You'll disappear with all those girls this summer, you'll go up to the Hamptons or something and...I'll be without you. Whether you're depressed or not, I am. This is crazy. I'm crazy," Rory finally finished as they pulled into his driveway.  
  
They got out, carefully, as if nothing was wrong, and walked through to his bedroom. The walls were covered in pictures, in plaques, in life. She knew the room, because she had put those things there. She'd slept in that bed (without him) and folded those blankets and cleaned that closet and vacuumed that floor and organized that desk and borrowed those clothes. It felt like hers, almost, she thought with a laugh.  
  
"I just...I just don't want it to happen. We're done, Tristan. Let's just have sex...don't you think it'd be a nice ending?" Even the slight laugh that hinged on the edge of her words didn't hide them. They both knew there was meaning there.  
  
"Okay, Rory, this may sound...understand this..." he put his hand over hers and she was shocked, gasping almost inaudibly when she looked into his ice blue eyes. "You're my One-Of-These-Days girls. We don't need an ending. And we won't have an ending. I'm saving myself for you. I may sound like a jerk, but I'm waiting. I can't have you now, when I'm here, like this. I'm saving our relationship until it can be good...until I can be good. The idea of loving you, not like a sister but as you, the idea of loving you the way I know you want me to, isn't new to me. I just don't pay attention to it. I don't let it ruin me, because it would ruin you. But one of these days, Rory, I won't fight it anymore, and you won't fight it, because we won't have to be careful about what people say and think and don't think. You won't have to cry when you kiss me. I won't send you into a slide of depression because I've been a jerk. One of these days, I'll be good for you, and you'll be good for me, and it'll work. Because it has to. Because we have to. We're right. We're not right now, not like that. You know it wouldn't work, even though you want it to. Somewhere in me, I want it to too. And that's why I'm saving me, and saving this. Because...one of these days, Rory. You are that 'one of these days'."   
  
They both knew there was meaning there, too. 


End file.
